On the Green Sward

On the green sward lay William, in anguish extended,
To soothe and to cheer him his Mary stood near him;
But despair in the cup of his sorrows was blended,
And, inwardly groaning, he wildly exclaim'd--

"Ah! look not so fondly, thou peerless in beauty,
Away, I beseech thee, no comfort can reach me;
A martyr to love, or a traitor to duty,
My pleasure is sorrow, my hope is despair.

"Once the visions of fancy shone bright and attractive,
Like distant scenes blooming which sunbeams illumine;
Love pointed to wealth, and, no longer inactive,
I labour'd till midnight, and rose with the dawn.

"But the day-dreams of pleasure have fled me for ever,
Misfortune surrounds me, oppression confounds me;
No hope to support, and no friend to deliver,
Poor and wretched, alas! I must ever remain.

"And thou, my soul's treasure, whilst pitying my anguish,
New poison does mix in my cup of affliction,
For honour forbids (though without thee I languish)
To make thee a partner of sorrow and want."

"Dear William," she cried, "I 'll no longer deceive thee,
I honour thy merit, I love thy proud spirit;
Too well thou art tried, and if wealth can relieve thee,
My portion is ample--that portion is thine."